This year's winter in Beijing came earlier than usual. Not long ago, when I was preparing to depart for Yunnan at Daxing Airport, I needed to wrap myself in a windbreaker to keep warm. After stopping in Kunming for a transfer, flying over the Nu River and Gaoligong Mountain, I arrived at my destination - Tengchong, known as the "Number One City on the Extreme Frontier". From the winter like autumn in Beijing to the spring like autumn in Tengchong, passing through one day, it feels like a dream. I can't help but think of my comrade who came to this place before leaving and said to me, 'When you arrive in Tengchong, you will know that that place is different from elsewhere.' In fact, my fate with Yunnan is not shallow. More than 30 years ago, my comrades and I left our battle footprints here. Afterwards, I visited this land no less than 10 times on business, thinking that I had a good understanding of it and regarded it as my second hometown. But for many years, I have never been to Tengchong. This time it finally came to fruition, mainly to explore the "difference" of Tengchong. As I walked out of the airport, I turned around and saw that in this airport built on the mountaintop, colorful clouds seemed to be within reach, as beautiful as a dream; The four big characters "Hump Airport" made my heart heat up even more. My mind immediately flashed like a movie, with the Hump route and Flying Tigers team from the Anti Japanese War period... Tengchong is a place with outstanding people, numerous volcanoes, hot springs, as well as many scenic spots such as ancient towns and wetlands, some of which are even national 5A level. And my first choice is the Yunnan West Anti Japanese War Memorial Hall. When I walked into the memorial hall, the first thing I saw was a large sculpture in the exhibition hall that artistically reproduced the Anti Japanese War in western Yunnan. In the sculpture, soldiers hold guns, braving enemy fire and charging forward with all their might, some protecting their comrades from the side... Their faces are so young, but their eyes conceal a resilience far beyond their age. Although the layout in the memorial hall is simple, it clearly presents the process of the Chinese army's resistance against the Western Yunnan War. Each physical object and document presents a historical scene. Being in the museum takes one back over 80 years. The thing that makes me unable to move is a tattered cotton coat. The announcer said, "This is the cotton padded jacket of the company commander Chen Gang. When he died, he still had a letter written to his family: 'Mother, I am all right in western Yunnan...'" This reminds me of the time when I was at the front line. Every time I wrote home, I only dared to write: "Mother, I am all right here..." At that time, what I dreamed of at night was the kind face of her old man... Extending from the west side of the memorial hall is a 133 meter long Chinese Expeditionary Force directory wall. The number of names engraved on the wall has reached 117195... Through this directory wall, I seem to see one after another anti Japanese soldiers and touch the history of those who swore to die together in the national crisis. I suddenly felt that this was not a wall, but a monument standing between heaven and earth, with each name shining with the blood of Chinese people. Leaving the memorial hall, turn left and you will arrive at the National Cemetery. I walked silently and slowly up the small hill along the steps. This small hill is actually a mountain. On the entire mountain, there are 3346 square tombstones neatly arranged on the ground. On each tombstone, the military rank and name of the martyr are engraved, and white and yellow chrysanthemums presented by people who come to worship are placed. After bowing three times, I bent down and carefully recognized the blurred handwriting eroded by wind and rain: "Private Li Chengzhang", "Sergeant Wang Jinzhu", "Second Lieutenant Zhang Zhenguo"... My fingers gently caressed the cold surface of the monument, as if feeling the temperature of more than 80 years ago; My gaze slowly moved from the small tombstone, as if I could see them fighting bravely against the enemy... Most of the martyrs sacrificed themselves in their teens or twenties, similar to the age when I enlisted. I can't help but think of the days when I was gnawing on compressed biscuits in my cat's ear hole, and the sacrifice of my comrades. I suddenly understand that heroes are heroes because their sacrifices and character have eternal significance. Wherever the wind blows, the pine waves surge, sobbing and roaring, like endless elegies, and like never-ending charge signals. People who have experienced war know how to sacrifice better, but when faced with such a concentrated and silent cemetery of martyrs, my heart is still fiercely held. At the top of Xiaotuanpo, the tall memorial tower is like a unsheathed sword, pointing straight towards the sky. I looked up at it for a long time, looked around at the forest of steles on the mountain, and suddenly remembered the poem "Loyalty bones buried everywhere in the green mountains, why do we need horse leather to wrap the body back". I suddenly understood the true meaning of every inch of mountains, rivers, and blood... In front of the memorial tower, I saw a group of elementary school students holding chrysanthemums, bowing and swearing under the guidance of their teachers... This scene moved me, history will not be forgotten, it will be forever remembered by people. The spirit of resistance is the backbone of Tengchong. But what sets Tengchong apart is also the resilient and composed attitude towards life that it exhibited after the victory of the Anti Japanese War. This brings us to Heshun Ancient Town. Compared to the solemnity of the national mourning cemetery, the atmosphere of life in Heshun Ancient Town is peaceful and comfortable. Residential houses with blue tiles and grey walls are scattered and arranged in a picturesque manner among the mountains and waters. The winding stone road has been polished smooth and warm by time. By the murmuring stream by the roadside, several women were washing clothes, and the sound of hammers rising and falling was clear and rhythmic. Ancestral temples and memorial archway in different forms silently tell the context and local customs that have lasted for hundreds of years here. Under an old banyan tree by the small river, I stopped and listened to an old man telling a story to a group of elementary school students. He said, 'Children, now is a good time for you to live a happy life and study carefree. But don't forget that the Japanese invaders occupied our Tengchong, burning, killing, looting, and committing all kinds of evil deeds. The common people lived in dire straits...' As a scholar, I especially love to linger in the library of the ancient town. The windows in the library are bright and clean, and the fragrance of books permeates. I saw an old man with white hair, wearing reading glasses and reading ancient books in thread; The scene of young people dressed fashionably tapping on their laptops to extract information made me truly feel how the roots of culture nourish a region of soil and people. Artillery can destroy cities, but it cannot shatter the deeply rooted longing and perseverance for knowledge, peace, and a better life in people's hearts. Walking to a corner of the ancient town, I met an old craftsman who was repairing an iron pot. That pot has a big hole. He calmly fixed the pot on the rack and spun the sharp diamond, drilling a row of small holes at the edge of the hole. The hissing sound of drilling pots, dense and persistent. I asked him, "Master, can this broken pot be repaired?" He looked up at me from above the reading glasses, smiled gently, and said slowly, "As long as the skeleton is still there, it can always be repaired." He pointed to the row of fine holes and said, "From here, put on the nails, hit them one by one, make them bite, and then apply oil dust. It's like Tengchong, this land that was broken by the Japanese invaders and repaired by us." I was immediately stunned: this sentence is as simple as the soil under my feet, but contains profound philosophy. Not just Tengchong, isn't that also true for our Chinese nation? Despite experiencing hardships, as long as the cultural backbone remains intact and the spiritual bloodline is not cut off, we can always repair the broken mountains, rivers, and life in the midst of devastation, one needle at a time, one hammer at a time, and make it shine with new and more beautiful radiance. In Tengchong, after waking up in the morning, I usually go for a slow jog in the outskirts of the city. Once, I had a conversation with a local elder who was also running. He spoke a passage that left a deep impression on me: "Tengchong has beautiful mountains and clear waters, but people's bones are very hard. Back then, the Japanese devils used Tengchong as their stronghold to resist the attack of the expeditionary force. The people swore not to be slaves to the downfall of the country and supported the expeditionary force one after another. Some sent water and food, some transported weapons and ammunition, some served as guides, and some directly participated in the war with guns." One day, I arrived at the Tengchong volcano group and stood at the crater, looking down. I saw that the green trees in the pit were all full of vitality. It's hard to imagine what kind of magma was rushing and flames were raging here back then. Yes, although this land has experienced fierce destruction, it has also nurtured thriving life. In the scorching sea of fire, when I saw white mist rising from the spring pool in the distance, a faint smell of sulfur had already wafted into my nostrils. In the canyon, along a rugged path about two kilometers long paved with volcanic rocks, there are large and small springs, like boiling pots, erupting steam with a gurgling sound. Looking back to the days when the expeditionary force lacked medical supplies, they were injured and later soaked in hot springs here to reduce inflammation. Suddenly, I felt that Tengchong's hot springs were also different - they had soaked in pain and hope; It remembers the hardships of war and is grateful for the sweetness of peace. Tengchong is wonderful - on one side is a cold and steep volcano, and on the other is a scorching hot sea; On one hand, there are martyrs sleeping peacefully, while on the other hand, there is a calm life. The interweaving and coexistence of ice and fire, death and life, vividly portrays war and peace. After returning to Beijing, I often reminisce about those days in Tengchong and gradually understand that the reason why Tengchong is different is because it embodies the tempering process of blood and fire in the national spirit with its calm volcano and scorching hot sea - accumulating the most vigorous vitality in the most tragic destruction. It is not drowned out by tragedy, standing up from the painful ruins with astonishing vitality and resilience, turning the heat of the volcano into a warm current of hot springs, depositing the memories of war into spiritual thickness, and blending the heterogeneity of the border into cultural diversity. Tengchong told me that true strength comes from experiencing hardships and understanding the hard won happiness and peace of today; The true memory is to comfort the martyrs who rest in peace. The land they exchanged their lives for is now filled with smoke and the sound of books, full of vitality - just as they wished. (New Society)